


Other side

by hikarufly



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Missing Scene, Sad and Sweet, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:39:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarufly/pseuds/hikarufly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS for 9x10<br/>Maybe is a little too sweet but I needed it. I was not ready to let Clara go. So I imagined this little scene, if the Doctor was free and not kidnapped by mysterious forces.<br/>Sorry, English is not my first language, I apologise for any mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other side

_It's not the same without you up here_

_Can't find my wheels_

_Your absence is what breeds this fear_

_Warm breath and all it steals_

_You can't know how it feels to be in here_

_All the dark horse fields, befriendin' me_

 

The TARDIS' lights were low and warm: the atmosphere was silent, the air was heavy and yet empty. The Doctor was curled up in his big armchair, surrounded by half read books and half drawn pictures. He had his guitar in his lap, and was caressing the strings as if he was cuddling a soft furry cat. His eyes were red, but the TARDIS didn't mind, didn't ask, so he felt safe and very much alone. He could still see her, dancing around the console, full of life, energy, beauty... He rubbed his face and continued playing that song, without singing. He had his immaculate shirt, and the rest of his clothes were mourning black.

The buzzing sound of his ship, though, distracted him. He had put the handbrake on, so that he was not forced to go on another adventures. No point in running, the pain was tightly folded around his hearts, squeezing them to death.

He stood up, puzzled, and slowly reached the control level below, and the door opened. The same music was playing yet someone was singing.

 

_Playin' ain't the same without you here_

_We've come to hate the golden rule_

_Cannot seem to make the dots connect_

_The morning light don't show you near_

_You can't know what it's like to bleed from here_

_The blackened world grows white, it goes nowhere_

_Oooh hoo.._

 

It was a female voice, similar to a human voice but more musical and harmonious. It was like listening to at least two women singing two different tunes together, but the Doctor had the feeling it was only one person. He got out, hypnotized by that sound. He walked along a dark narrow corridor and found a door. He opened it and found a bar lounge. The light was low and warm as in his TARDIS, with very few aliens around. It was an intergalactic pub of sorts, but very similar to a Scottish or Irish one on heart. The barman was a sort of big humanoid squid, pouring a pint and making a cocktail at the same time to an Ood and a Sylurian. The Doctor counted seven attendants, scattered across the lounge, on sofas or little wooden corners. At the centre of the space was the square bar, with the counter and equipment in the middle, and slightly on the left was the a little stage, with red carpets and a few stools. The musicians were very exotic for a human eye but very dull for an alien one: each player had extra limbs or strange colour, appropriate for each instrument.

The singer was, as the Doctor had suspected, one single entity, a female alien. She had blue skin and she had eyes a lighter shade of the same colour. She had white lips and white, long soft hair, and she was wearing a dress that seemed a watercolour, shifting and changing at every note of her song.

He listened to her while getting to the bar.

 

_Death ain't the same without you, dear_

_I make the others run and hide_

_New York streets seem to make it worse_

_All this noise inside the quiet_

_I can't hold on, the weight you bear_

_My body's broken fast, please lift me up_

_You can't know what it's like to be inside_

_The fading melodies can't beat my need_

He reached the centre of the pub, wondering which New York she was talking about. Maybe it was the same he walked in while thinking of... The noise of his anger, the quiet of his pain.

The Doctor ordered a Scotch. The squib-like barman, with light red eyes but warm smile thought it a pun.

«My planet has a Scotland too. I miss it» he said, giving the glass to him.

«On the house.» he added, leaving him to the last bits of the song.

 

_I'm not the same without you here_

_How can I quit to be there_

_Sit and stare_

_Stare.._

_Begging for a prayer_

 

The audience clapped quite a cold appreciation, and got back to their affairs. It was late.

«Last round, ladies, gentlemen and all in between.» said the barman. Some of the costumer left, some asked of the rooms upstairs, and the Doctor was left alone, at the counter. The singer left the stage and reached the counter too. She sat near him, leaving only one empty stool.

«Don't worry, man. You can stay as long as you like.» said the barman, leaving him alone then.

The Doctor looked at the singer, who was smiling a very sweet smile, looking at the barman for a moment and then turning to him. That sweetness hit him like a fast running lorry.

«Would you like another song, sir?» she asked.

The Doctor sipped his whiskey.

«Something nice, if you want. Something silly, perhaps, something to relieve... well, nothing can.» he concluded, with a sorrowful smile.

Her smile became melancholic, gentler and sad.

«I have been reading a lot, you know. Christina Rossetti.» he explained, and the alien before him did not seem stranded. Good poetry travels the stars.

«Poetry about death. I tried to convince myself that all I would do would mean nothing, because she is somewhere else now: somewhere I cannot reach her. I don't know if she's safe, I cannot be certain. That is what I cannot live with.» he explained, emptying his glass.

 

_ Remember me when I am gone away, _

_ Gone far away into the silent land; _

_ When you can no more hold me by the hand, _

_ Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. _

_ Remember me when no more day by day _

_ You tell me of our future that you plann'd: _

_ Only remember me; you understand _

_ It will be late to counsel then or pray. _

_ Yet if you should forget me for a while _

_ And afterwards remember, do not grieve: _

_ For if the darkness and corruption leave _

_ A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, _

_ Better by far you should forget and smile _

_ Than that you should remember and be sad. _

 

The Doctor turned to her: they both heard that poem, sang in a choir of silent voice by her. They both had red eyes, full of tears, but she was still smiling.

«I believe you missed one poem, Lord of Time, that may relieve you in some way. All beauty is medicine.»

He looked puzzled again, and she looked even more sweet and sad, and started singing again, without a voice but with many voices, in his head.

 

_I will tell you when they met:_

_In the limpid days of Spring;_

_Elder boughs were budding yet,_

_Oaken boughs looked wintry still,_

_But primrose and veined violet_

_In the mossful turf were set,_

_While meeting birds made haste to sing_

_And build with right good will._

 

_I will tell you when they parted:_

_When plenteous Autumn sheaves were brown,_

_Then they parted heavy-hearted;_

_The full rejoicing sun looked down_

_As grand as in the days before;_

_Only they had lost a crown;_

_Only to them those days of yore_

_Could come back nevermore._

 

_When shall they meet? I cannot tell,_

_Indeed, when they shall meet again,_

_Except some day in Paradise:_

_For this they wait, one waits in pain._

_Beyond the sea of death love lies_

_For ever, yesterday, to-day;_

_Angels shall ask them, 'Is it well?'_

_And they shall answer, 'Yea.'_

 

The Doctor was crying, but before he could argue that he did not believe in Paradise, a light, high-pitched voice filled the room. A little alien was running towards them: the little thing had white hair, and both her skin and eyes were a curious combination of pink and blue.

«Clara! What are you doing here? You should be in bed!» exclaimed the singer, getting down of the stool and taking the little girl into her arms. The little alien was smiling broadly, but when she saw the Doctor, she became shy and silent. She covered her face against the crook of her mother's neck.

«Why is he crying, mummy?» she asked, in a murmur.

«He is sad, darling. He lost someone he loved very much.» the singer replied.

The Doctor stood up too and made a little step towards them. The little alien looked at him.

«Are you sad, sir?» she asked. He nodded. «I am really sorry.» she added, understanding he was no thread. She suddenly seemed to have an idea.

«Mummy, we should sing to the sad man!»

The singer smiled, amused and touched.

«What should we sing?» the mother asked.

The little alien put on a very concentrated expression, almost theatrical, then turned to him.

«What is your name, sir?»

«I... »

He couldn't continue. How could he be called the Doctor now? The little alien decided to get down on her feet and got closer to him. He panicked: should he pick her up, in his arms? But the little alien levitated up and put her little hands on his temples. She closed her eyes, the colour of the sunset on the ocean, blue and pink, and then smiled.

«Mummy, mummy, I found it!» she exclaimed, and flew back to her, whispering the name of the song to her hear.

The barman got on the other side of the counter and embraced a guitar.

The Doctor and the singer sat on a big couch, and the little alien stood on her mother's lap. The barman started playing a tune, while the other two sang.

 

_The light was leaving, in the west it was blue_

_The children's laughter sang_

_Skipping just like the stones they threw_

_The voices echoed across the way_

_It's getting late_

 

_It was just another night_

_With the sun set_

_And the moon rise not so far behind_

_To give us just enough light_

 

_To lay down underneath the stars_

_Listen to papas translations_

_Of the stories across the sky_

_We drew our own constellations_

 

The little alien Clara left her mother's arms and hugged a very stranded Doctor. He needed it, she knew, and he hugged her too.

 

_The west winds often last too long_

_The wind may calm down_

_Nothing ever feels the same_

_Sheltered under the Kamani tree_

_Waiting for the passing rain_

 

_Clouds keep moving to uncover the scene_

_Stars above are chasing the day away_

_To find the stories that we sometimes need_

_Listen close enough_

_All else fades, fades away_

 

_It was just another night_

_With the sun set_

_And the moon rise not so far behind_

_To give us just enough light_

 

_To lay down underneath the stars_

_Listen to all the translations_

_Of the stories across the sky_

_We drew our own constellations_

 

She was still saving him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song "Other Side" is by Pearl Jam, and you can find it in the album "Lost Dogs".  
> The poems by Christina Rossetti are "Remember" and "One day"  
> The last song is "Constellations" by Jack Johnson. The version I prefer is the live one with Eddie Vedder recorded in 2007. Google it!


End file.
